


Of Lost Innocence and Second Chances

by itsthechocopuff



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Child Abandonment, Daddy Issues, Fix-It, Gen, Severus Snape Being a Bastard, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Sirius' daughter is called Tessa and she is BAMF, Slytherins Being Slytherins, because Sirius got himself caught and shoved into Azkaban, just not in the Freudian sense, the Sirius-had-a-daughter fic you never knew you needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-07-25 10:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7529377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsthechocopuff/pseuds/itsthechocopuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year before he confronted Peter, Sirius learned that he had a daughter. </p><p>Thirteen years later, he is faced with the culmination of his mistakes as his daughter stares him down, wand pointed at his heart, a curse on the tip of her tongue and murder in her eyes.</p><p>Sirius is left to figure out what went wrong and how, exactly, they can move on from there. </p><p>(the fact that, thanks to his daughter, he is suddenly a free man certainly helps things)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is, again, an experiment in a different writing style.  
> also, this idea has been bugging me for the last week and would not let me work on my other fics till I got my shit together and wrote it down. there will be more action in the next couple of chapters, I just needed to set a bit of background (tedious, I know, I'm sorry but I just hate reading fics when something happens and i'm like 'whoaaa where tf did THAT come from?!' so I try to avoid it)  
> btw McGonagall is freakin hard to write! damn!

Tessa Black stared at the woman in front of her in blatant suspicion.

 

Years of living in an overcrowded orphanage on the outskirts of London have taught her to be wary of adults, regardless how harmless they seemed or promised to be. Her suspicious nature may have been the reason why she was one of the longest occupants of the orphanage, most potential parents being put off by her lack of trust in them and others. But that same lack of trust was how Tessa could confidently sneak out of the orphanage and roam one of the worst boroughs around London and still come back in one piece every time, so she reasoned that the pros and cons balanced each other out.

 

But, back to the matter at hand, she made no move to get closer to the woman standing in front of Miss Trayte. She wasn't buying the woman's meant-to-be-reassuring "I'm not here to hurt you, child." in the slightest – in her experience, anyone who felt the need to reassure her that they weren't going to hurt her was fully aware that they _could_ hurt her, and she wasn't about to take that chance.

 

As such, she backed away from the strange woman, walking backwards into her room all the while keeping her back to the window and _never_ taking her eyes off the unexpected visitor. There was something simply not _right_ about her and years of navigating the streets of outer London and the precarious throngs of the orphanage’s popularity ladder had taught her to trust her first impressions.

 

But then, some people just _didn’t share her concerns._

"Theresa, for god's sake, _behave_." Ms Trayte, the orphanage warden and the only adult who wasn't openly malicious towards the children chastised her, blowing out an exasperated sigh and glaring at her over the newcomer's shoulder. Tessa could admit to having a soft spot in her heart for the woman, and as such she shot her a cheeky grin and a wink, but did not straighten from her slight crouch nor make any inclination to move towards the weird woman.

 

(there was a flicker of something in the newcomer’s eyes when she saw Tessa’s grin - was it grief? surprise? regret? - as if it triggered by an unpleasant memory)

 

"Ms Trayte, I think it would be best if Miss Black and I had a chance to talk _alone_." the ( _strangeweirdthreat-!)_ lady suggested, turning to the warden, and Tessa mutely shook her head, widening her eyes and trying to wordlessly convey 'no! don't leave me alone with her!' when Ms Trayte's eyes met hers. There was a flicker of movement from the mysterious woman, just the slightest twitch of her sleeve, and then Ms Trayte's eyes glazed over and her worried frown smoothed out and she _nodded._

 

"Of course." she acquiesced, her voice sounding flat. _(alien)._ "I shall make sure you're not interrupted."

 

And then she walked out and shut the door behind her, leaving Tessa alone with the strange woman. The alarm bells that had been going off in her head since the knock on her door reached a tense crescendo.

 

"What did you _do_ to her?" she demanded, fear levelling off into a steady calm that she did not feel, but it made her words come out strong and her voice stay level. This was nothing like how it was with the bullies in the orphanage or the drunkards on the streets, she realised, growing worried. Bullies she could deal with; this was completely out of her comfort zone.

 

(the fact that this strange, mysterious woman who wore _robes_ and a pointed hat and seemed to be able to sway the most headstrong woman she had ever met with nary a glance was _completely_ outside of what Tessa had to deal with before was something she chose not to dwell on.)

 

(the fact of the matter was had  _no_ _fucking clue_ how to deal with her).

 

"I did nothing. Have a seat, Miss Black." the woman replied stoically, gesturing at _Tessa’s own bed._

 

The teen's eyes narrowed as she felt her irritation rising. "I think you'll find that _you're_ in _my_ space and thus in no place to be ordering me. I'll do what I please, Ms...?" she trailed off, aware that she was being plain _rude,_ but hereyes were cataloguing the woman's reaction to her defiance. (another twitch, another near _wince?_ as if Tessa's actions reminded her of something, maybe some _body..._ )

 

"McGonagall. _Professor_ McGonagall, actually, Miss Black." came the frosty response.

 

"'Professor'?" Tessa parroted, an unimpressed eyebrow hiking up. "Well, where do you _profess_ at, _Professor_?" she sniped sarcastically, getting a twisted feeling of amusement from trying to provoke a reaction.

 

(it might've been her imagination but it seemed as if _Professor_ McGonagall ground her teeth together like some of the orphanage's wardens tended to when they were just about to snap. Tessa counted it as a personal victory.)

 

"Hogwarts." McGonagall stated simply, back to the _annoyingly level_ drone, producing an envelope from thin air. "Which brings me onto the reason for my presence here; this is for you." she held out the envelope, clearly expecting Tessa to take it, but the girl eyed her suspiciously, making no move towards her.

 

"I've lived in this place for a decade, _Professor._ " she stated simply, the title spoken almost as an insult. "And in all my years here, I have never received a _single_ letter, postcard, nor bill. The only people I know outside of this orphanage are a barman and a librarian, neither of whom have any reason for writing me letters. So _excuse me_ for being a bit sceptical."

 

(it took every ounce of McGonagall's considerable willpower to keep her face blank and her arm outstretched. such _bitterness_ in someone so _young_...)

 

"It is a letter of acceptance to my school, Miss Black. It would do you well to familiarise yourself with its contents." she advised, only countless years of dealing with insolence helping her keep her voice even.

 

But the girl remained firmly in place, her eyes trained steadily on the older woman's. Then, a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, and before McGonagall's very eyes, the envelope slid out of her hand and floated gently over to the teen whose gaze never left her own. Like a _challenge,_ McGonagall realised, a challenge meant to unsettle her.

 

(a voice in her head whispered that the girl’s father had always liked challenges, that same grey-eyed gaze always bore into McGonagall's whenever something went wrong at school, whenever there was a prank but they had _no proof-!)_

 

McGonagall watched as the girl (the last of the Black line, her old student's daughter, the _murderer's daughter-!)_ shook the envelope, pressed it to her ear, then flattened it against the desk with her palm before - after apparently deeming it 'safe' - she finally moved to open it. Tessa tore the envelope delicately, with a hint of the aristocracy she didn't even _know_ she belonged to and pulled out the letter.  

 

 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

 

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 

Dear Ms Black, 

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

 

Term begins on 1st September. We await your owl by no later than 31st July.

 

Yours sincerely,

 

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

 

Tessa raised her eyes from the letter to meet the expectant gaze of McGonagall.

 

Then, she burst out laughing.

 

(McGonagall watched the girl laugh, the most uninhibited behaviour she'd shown since they met, watched that familiar bark of laughter and thrown back head and briefly wondered how a child who'd never met her father could be so much _like him-_!)

 

When Tessa calmed down, she flipped onto the next page, the corner of her lips permanently twisted upwards as if she were in on some inside joke. The only difference being that this time, she insisted on reading _out loud_.

 

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

 

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

  1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
  2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
  3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
  4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)



 

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

 

COURSE BOOKS

 

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

 

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_

_by Miranda Goshawk_

 

_A History of Magic_

_by Bathilda Bagshot_

 

_Magical Theory_

_by Adalbert Waffling_

 

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_

_by Emeric Switch_

 

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

_by Phyllida Spore_

 

_Magical Drafts and Potions_

_by Arsenius Jigger_

 

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

_by Newt Scamander_

 

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

_by Quentin Trimble_

 

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

 

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

 

McGonagall readied herself for another bout of mocking laughter, but it did not come. Instead, there was a contemplative, calculating look in the girl's steel-grey eyes as she mouthed a certain word over and over.  


_Magic._

"You're telling me that _this,_ " she began, sweeping an arm around the room: as if on cue, all the papers that were scattered on a small table rose and sorted themselves into a small pile in the corner of the room "is _magic._ "

 

(McGonagall resolutely did not think what this meant. The girl's father murdered _thirteen people_ with _one spell_ it's no surprise that-!)

 

She cleared her throat. "Yes. We call it 'Accidental Magic' - all witches and wizards before the age of eleven experience it before they attend school and learn to control it." McGonagall paused, eyes flickering to the pile in the corner. 

 

She expected gloating, or a self-satisfied smirk, or hooded eyes which told her that the girl figured out she was special because what she had shown was very much _intentional_.

 

Instead, what McGonagall got was a frown and a curled lip as the girl seemed to mull something over. 

 

Finally, she set the letter down. 

 

"I don't believe you."

 

McGonagall blinked, then frowned. "What, exactly, do you find hard to come to grips with?"

 

And suddenly, grey eyes rose to meet hers and McGonagall was momentarily thrown by the _intelligence_ in them. "I find it hard to believe that there's an entire _school_ of Wizards somewhere in England and that it somehow _isn't_ common knowledge. If what you say is true and there are young children parading around displaying their powers for all to see. It begs to question how the existence of wizards isn't more commonly known."

 

McGonagall took a moment to piece together an answer. "There are enchantments. The school is in Scotland and there are ancient charms on it which make it invisible to muggles - that is, to non-magical people. As for children with magical potential, they normally come from families where at least one parent is a wizard. For those who are completely muggleborn, or those in unusual circumstances, a representative from the school comes to explain everything on the child's eleventh birthday. Which is why I am here today."

 

The girl's eyes glittered, amused, clearly not missing the fact that McGonagall had evaded her main question. Minerva closed her eyes and counted to ten before she resigned herself to answering. "If muggles see something they shouldn't, their memory is... _wiped_ , and a completely innocuous suggestion is planted in the place of the event they thought they witnessed. There is a department within the Ministry of Magic that deals exclusively with those situations."

 

Tessa's eyes were wide when McGonagall glanced at her, but they quickly narrowed, turning cold, suspicious. 

 

"That's what you did to Ms Trayte." She declared, not an ounce of hesitation in her words. "You used that and you  _convinced her_ to leave me here, alone with you."

 

McGonagall didn't splutter, but it was a close call. “You should not-!”

 

But Tessa didn’t let her finish, the weight of her gaze seeming to pin McGonagall in place. “I have known Ms Trayte for a decade, _professor._ She is the only adult here to ever give a rat’s ass about the children, and is therefore the only one of the wards whom I actively respect. She would _not_ leave me here with a stranger out of her own volition, she _knows better than that._ ” Then, the girl paused and grinned again, and for the first time McGonagall realised how _fake_ that expression was. “So, let’s try again; did you, or did you not, plant a suggestion in Ms Trayte to leave me alone with you?”

 

Minerva blinked, resisted a wince, and resigned herself to surrendering for the second time since meeting the girl. She’d come across this particular brand of questioning before, the very same grey eyes, the very same indignation and the very same gaze which promised all sorts of hell should it be denied. And she’d learnt long ago that the easiest thing to do was-

 

_(“Professor McGonagall, where’s Remus?”_

_“Mr Lupin is visiting his father, Mr Black, and I’m sure he’d appreciate if you left him to it.”_

_“Ah, that is good to know, professor. It’s just… I was under the impression that Moony’s old man_ died _two years ago. It’s peculiar he still visits him. If I were so inclined, I’d say that it seems more like he disappears every full moon… I was wondering if you knew where to.”_

_Minerva closed her eyes-)_

 

-to give in.

 

McGonagall took a deep breath.

 

“Ms Trayte is under the impression that I’m going to take you away to a boarding school for the Gifted and Talented children up in Strathclyde. She knows it’s an honour and it would be impolite of her to resist your leaving.”

 

The look in the girl’s eyes was viciously victorious, and one McGonagall was achingly familiar with.

 

(- _and when she opened them, it was with the words, “Mr Lupin is in the hospital wing. You may see him if Madame Pomfrey permits it.” With his grey eyes glinting victoriously while a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, Sirius Black curtseyed, murmuring a snarky “Thank you, professor_.”)

 

“Thank you, professor.” Tessa murmured, her eyes glittering and a smirk on her face. Then, she glanced back at the letter still clutched in her hand. “Though I must say, I did not think I could acquire all these things in London.” She confessed.

 

McGonagall schooled her features back into their practiced professionalism as she replied. “You won’t, at least not in the muggle shops. There is a pub, the Leaky Cauldron, that is a gateway between the muggle world and our world – the owner, Tom, will show it to you the first time you come through.”

 

There was an amused glint in the girl’s eyes. “You seem awfully certain that I _will_ come through. What if I choose to reject this part of me? I’m still not convinced this isn’t some elaborate practical joke.”

 

Minerva nodded, deciding it was a fair question. “If you choose not to accept your magical heritage, that will be your choice, but the Ministry will require you to swear that you keep the secret of our existence and never use magic again.” She admitted, frowning at the silence that befell them as Tessa studied the letter in her hand, still trying to decide.

 

Finally, she took a deep breath and frowned up at McGonagall. “I do not feel comfortable entering a world, a society which I know next to nothing about. Will there be any places for me to… fill in the blanks?” she asked, and McGonagall did a slight double-take. She had been certain the girl was going to refuse.

 

“There are books you could purchase up in Diagon Alley which will quickly bring you up to speed on our history if that is what you need, or you can pursue our rather extensive library at Hogwarts once the term starts.”

 

Tessa took another deep breath, held it for a few seconds and slowly let it out in a quiet whoosh. She dropped the letter onto her desk and faced McGonagall with a steely resolve glimmering in her eyes. “Alright. I’m going to do this.” She declared, and Minerva allowed herself a small sigh of relief. Then, she wasted no time in giving the girl instructions on how to get to the Leaky Cauldron, which shops she should visit, how to withdraw money from Gringott’s (she handed over the key to the Blacks’ vault) and how to get to Platform 9 ¾ on the first of September. The girl listened attentively, nodding every once in a while, asking questions when she needed clarifications and evidently committing everything to memory in a way that assured Minerva that the girl had the potential to become an excellent student.

 

When McGonagall was finally finished, Tessa nodded. “Alright. Thanks, professor. Is there anything else you feel like I should know?”

 

This was the part that Minerva dreaded the most.

 

“There are three people you should know of. First: there was a wizard, He Who Must Not Be Named, who waged war on our world for over a decade before you were born. He and his followers killed too many to count when he was in power and his accomplices were not fully known until _after_ he fell. Then, there is a boy your age, Harry Potter, who is credited with vanquishing him when he was a toddler.” Tessa could not quite stifle her snort – what sort of drugs were wizards on if they thought a _baby_ was capable of vanquishing a _mass-murderer_? Some of her thoughts must have showed on her face as McGonagall’s expression became stern. “Whether you ‘believe’ it or not is irrelevant – fact of the matter is that when You-Know-Who went to kill Harry Potter, he was never seen nor heard from again, his reign of terror ended and Harry survived.” Tessa held up her hands in the universal surrender gesture and nodded at McGonagall to continue. “The third… was a student of mine. Sirius Black.” Minerva barrelled on even when the girl froze at the name. “He was a brilliant boy, we were glad to have him and his friends on our side of the war, until… until after He Who Must Not Be Named was defeated and Black killed his friend and thirteen muggles in one go. He was sentenced to life in Azkaban – a wizard prison – only what most didn’t know was that he was leaving behind…” McGonagall paused, cleared her throat, and forced herself to meet the girl’s enraptured but guarded gaze. “what they didn’t know was that he was leaving behind his one year old daughter.”

 

Tessa backpedalled, jumping away from McGonagall and landing on her bed, where she scrambled upright and stared at Minerva with pleading, disbelieving eyes. “Professor, please tell me-!”

 

Minerva shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, Miss Black. But the fact remains that Sirius Black was, and to this day remains your father.”


	2. Welcome to the Wizarding World

The train ride to central London was easy. Finding the Leaky Cauldron – with McGonagall’s directions – was easy. Walking in and asking to be shown the way to Diagon Alley was also relatively easy.

What was _not_ easy was meeting the barman’s wary eyes after she introduced herself.

What was _near impossible_ was pretending that the astounded silence that fell in the bar was not affecting her in the slightest.

But what had Tessa nearly in tears once she left the bar were the _whispers._

_“Murderer’s daughter-!”_

_“Looks just like him-!”_

_“Didn’t even know the bastard had a child-!”_

_“She’ll turn out just like him, just you watch-!”_

When they walked out to what looked like the back of an alleyway, the barman, Tom, offered her a piece of advice she would keep close to her heart for years to come: “Listen here, lassie,” he told her, and Tessa stiffened, on guard. “yer old man didn’t exactly leave a positive impression on our world. That kind of talk will follow you around wherever you go, so you either grow a backbone and own it, or resign yourself to living yer life in the shadow of your old man’s deeds.”

Tessa processed the words then nodded, attempting a grateful smile but she knew it looked more like a grimace than anything else. It seemed to satisfy Tom though, as he turned away from her and tapped the brick wall with what Tessa belatedly realised was a _wand._

Then, before she had much time to process the sheer _ridiculousness_ of her situation, the bricks started shifting and suddenly, all the leftover normalcy in her life Tessa clung to was thrown out the window, forever.

* * *

Gringotts was imposing.

If Tessa was honest, it was actually _terrifying,_ because she was suddenly faced with a completely different species that had more to do with _aliens_ than _apes._ She felt like she’d walked into something straight out of _Star Trek_ if not for the way that every goblin she walked past seemed to be judging her through their spectacles, as if each and every one of them knew her name, knew whose child she was. She felt claustrophobic in the enormous hall, as if all the oxygen had ran out and she was almost gasping for breath before Tom’s words flashed through her mind; _own it or live your life forever in his shadow._

Tessa had no desire to live in the shadows.

McGonagall’s reaction to her little trick had been enough to assure her that even in a world of _wizards,_ her on-again off-again ability was not common. And that, more than anything else, motivated her. Tessa never did things half-hearted. That applied even to the moment when she told McGonagall she was going to try her hand at being a witch; the moment the words were out of her mouth she knew she was going to do everything in her power to be the best damn witch she could make herself into.

Having a mass-murderer for a father was not going to stand in her way, not this time and not _ever._

Almost unconsciously, Tessa straightened her back, squared her shoulders and raised her chin. When she got to the goblin at the end of the hall, she cleared her throat and, with all the assertiveness she could master, declared; “I wish to access my account.”

 The goblin paused in what it was doing and peered down at her, one imperious eyebrow raised high. “Name?” he drawled.

“Theresa Black.” She replied coolly, squashing the panic that threatened to rise up and reaching up and to place the key McGonagall had given her on the creature’s desk. There was a microscopic twitch, a flicker of surprise, and then a cold acknowledgement.

“Very well. Follow.”

* * *

 

Piles upon piles of gold.

Big, fat, gold coins surrounded by piles upon piles of silver ones the size of the 50p coin and messy, skewed piles of smaller, brown coins. Trophies, diadems, crowns, busts, necklaces and rings seemed to fight for space, tilting off the shelves and glinting in the low light of the lantern.

Tessa, never having had more than five pounds to her name even with the random jobs she managed to pick out when she snuck out of the orphanage could only gape in awe.

“What is this?” she managed to choke out, yet didn’t turn away from the gold.

“Your inheritance. Sirius Black was disowned from the noble House of Black, thus from the death of Walburga Black, you are the last direct inheritor of the Black fortune.” The goblin explained, his voice dry and nasal but sounding like music to Tessa’s ears. “As of 1985, the monetary inheritance stands at 198,984 Galleons, 24,855 Sickles and 15,375 Knuts. With the current conversion rate to Muggle money, that totals £998,376 and 66 pence.”

Tessa’s heart jumped to her throat. Almost a million pounds at her disposal. _Her._ An eleven year old orphan from the poorest outskirts of London.

“There’s this, too.” The goblin added, holding out a worn-looking envelope and turning away from Tessa to give her the semblance of privacy. “There is also real estate registered to the Black family.”

With shaking hands, Tessa gently pulled the card out of the envelope and unfolded it.

_‘ **Black Family Estate**_

_12 Grimmauld Place, Borough of Islington_

_Unplottable and hidden behind the Fidelius charm_

_Stand between numbers 11 and 13, think the address and the house will appear_

_–Orion Black, son of Arcturus Black III and Melania Black’_

Carefully, Tessa plucked out what appeared to be a door key from the envelope and refolded the card. “D-does anyone else have access to this vault?” she asked quietly, and the goblin eyed her with what she thought might’ve been approval.

“Two witches do: Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy. However, if you so wish, you can be made the keeper of the Black family vault and they can be denied access.”

Tessa shook her head. “Not yet, but thank you for informing me.” Then, she appraised the gold and sighed. “How much would you recommend I take out? I am starting my first year at Hogwarts.” She informed the goblin and got a thoughtful hum in response.

“A hundred Galleons, fifty Sickles and a hundred Knuts should suffice. There are seventeen Sickles in a Galleon, twenty-nine Knuts in a Sickle and 493 Knuts in a Galleon.”

Tessa could only gape and nod.

* * *

Tessa spent almost a fifth of what she took out in the bookshop alone. Flourish and Blotts was her heaven on earth, and it took the shop’s assistant coming over to offer her a hand with the books she was carrying to make her stop adding more to her pile. She bought all eight of the books on her list, then added Grade 2 and 3 of the _Standard Book of Spells, The Book of Charms & Spells, Curses and Counter-Curses, Hogwarts: A History_ and two more, one of which was on astrology and the last on wizarding family trees. The cashier gawked when she dumped the pile on his desk, then smiled.

“Starting Hogwarts, eh?” he asked kindly, and Tessa nodded with a small smile of her own. “You could leave them here then pick it up when you’re done with the rest of your shopping. Carrying it would be uncomfortable for a little thing like yourself!”

Tessa grit her teeth in annoyance but made sure her smile never fell as she forced out a grateful, “Thank you, sir, that’s very kind of you.”

Almost twenty Galleons lighter, she made her way out of the shop and to the next one on her list; Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. She arrived in just as an incredibly tall man and a boy dressed in even worse-fitting clothes than the ones she herself wore were walking away from the shop, and with no small amount of trepidation she pushed the door open.

A little bell jingled above her head and then a woman even shorter than her appeared before Tessa, a measuring tape in hand and a stern look on her face. “What is it with young witches and wizards dressing in such ill-fitting clothes? Come, come darling, I’ll fix you up something much nicer, Hogwarts, I presume? First year like young Mr. Malfoy here or higher? Judging by your face I’d say the former but it never hurts to check!” she nattered on, while Tessa openly gaped at the self-measuring tape and knitting needles which were moving without anyone holding them, and the sewing machine which was hemming a pants’ leg all by itself.

Tuning back to reality, she smiled hesitantly and nodded. “First year at Hogwarts, yes, madam –please.”

Madam Malkin huffed and smiled at her. “At least you have lovely manners.” And then she moved over to the other boy in the shop with her to add the finishing touches to his robe.

Tessa then clocked on to what the woman had said. _Malfoy? That’s what the goblin said…_

“You a muggleborn too?” the boy asked, snapping her out of her musings, his eyes flickering from her rolled-up jeans to her David Bowie t-shirt and chequered shirt. Tessa blinked, belatedly recalling the terms McGonagall had taught her, and shook her head.

“No. Half-blood, at least. Maybe pureblood. Don’t really know.” She replied, confused when the blond frowned.

“How can you not know your blood?” he asked incredulously, arching an eyebrow. “You an orphan too or something?” he snorted, and Tessa decided then and there that she did not like him.

“Yes, actually.” She snapped bitingly, inwardly delighting when the boy recoiled slightly, looking embarrassed. “I only found out about this magic business yesterday, so _excuse me._ ”

“Sorry.” Malfoy, or so she assumed, apologised, and Tessa relaxed, hoping the conversation would end there. “So what’s your name? If it’s a wizarding family, I’ll know it. I’m Draco, by the way. Draco Malfoy.”

(Tessa barely contained her snort of surprise. Who in their right mind names their kid _dragon_? Wizards were weird, it seemed.)

“I’m Tessa.” She replied bluntly, scowling when the blond frowned and started trying to wrangle a surname out of her.

“Psh,” he stopped at last, turning away in disdain. “I bet you’re actually a muggleborn, that’s why you won’t say.”

Tessa bared her teeth, sick of the boy’s attitude, and decided _to hell with it._ “It’s Tessa _Black._ Which, unless I’m mistaken, makes us _cousins,_ Malfoy.”

The temperature in the shop dropped instantly and Tessa, not for the first time, rued her short temper.

A beautiful woman appeared before her, her hair, a curious mix of platinum blond and black was up in a half bun. She was dressed in an incredibly ornate jacket and just seemed to exude and air of royalty, and Tessa felt cowed. The woman _oozed_ power, even in her confusion.

“Could you really be his daughter?” she mused, her eyes flickering across Tessa’s face, from the mess of curly raven hair that she’d long given up trying to tame and simply let hand by her shoulders, to her grey eyes and back again. Then, she stepped back. “The more accurate term would be second cousins, once removed I believe. Welcome to the family, Miss Black. I am Narcissa Malfoy. I hope you will honour the name more than your father.”

“Mrs Malfoy, please–!” Madam Malkin began, but abruptly cut herself off and went back to finishing Malfoy’s robe.

Draco was still staring at Tessa with a mix of surprise and disbelief. “ _You’re_ Black’s daughter? And they raised you amongst muggles?!” he demanded, seeming genuinely indignant when Tessa nodded. “That’s outrageous.”

Tessa didn’t know whether to be amused or concerned by the anger on her behalf, so she shrugged instead. “Yours has been the most positive reaction so far upon learning my name.” she considered the boy again, then slowly stuck out her hand. “Thanks.”

There was a slight smirk on Malfoy’s mouth when he shook her hand. “Well, Black did murder thirteen muggles and a wizard. Most people frown at that for some reason.” He leaned closer, ignoring Madam Malkin’s pleas that he stop moving. “Frankly, I think what he did was penance for the fact he was a blood traitor. Finally renouncing the Gryffindor ways and showing that he really was a descendant of the Black line at heart. Pity he got caught.”

Tessa froze, her gaze flickering from the smirk on Malfoy’s face to the mirth in his eyes. He was _serious_ , she realised with a start, almost unable to believe it. He genuinely meant what he said, genuinely thought killing muggles was a good deed.

Years of reading through history books and tuning into the radio flashed through her mind. Everything that happened when one class thought themselves ‘superior’ to another. The Second World War, the Nuremberg trials, the KKK – it seemed that McGonagall had misled her: wizards and muggles didn’t ‘coexist’, they only survived each other through avoidance.

Still, she plastered a smile on her face and managed to nod, recognising a battle not worth fighting when she saw one. Still, she didn’t hesitate to release a sigh of relief when the Malfoys left the shop.

“Is everything alright, Ms Black?” Madam Malkin’s asked cautiously, and Tessa wondered whether the wizards knew of Shakespeare’s Graymalkin or whether the connection was coincidence. She shook her head and gave a small smile.

“Are all wizarding families like the Malfoys?” she asked quietly, closing her eyes when the seamstress began tightening her robe. “So… intense?”

Madam Malkins laughed quietly and shook her head. “No, they are one of the ‘traditional’ pureblood families, and though powerful, their beliefs are not shared by all. Is that what you meant, Ms Black?”

Tessa could only sigh with relief and smile.

* * *

 _Ollivanders_ was the shop Tessa had the highest expectations for and also dreaded the most. She’d stopped for a moment in Flourish and Blotts and opened the first book off her pile and found that wands were assigned based on character; that a wandmaker would lay you bare and know exactly what to give you for your magic to flow.

Tessa dreaded being read so easily.

And yet, as she pushed open the door, there was something comforting in the musty, wooden smell inside.

“Ah, Ms Black.” A quiet, wisened voice murmured, and Tessa jumped. “I was wondering when you’d come. Worry not, I’ll find you something perfect.”

Tessa approached the counter just as she glimpsed a short man disappear amongst the shelves, so she waited, trying to remain patient even as her heart felt like it was in her throat.

Half an hour later, she had tried nine wands, exploded two lamps, upended a bookshelf and turned Ollivander’s hair a luminescent green.

“Hm, maybe…” and then she got handed a final one, and the moment her fingers wrapped around the hilt, Tessa felt a surprising calm take over her. When she swished her wand, the upended bookshelf righted itself and the pieces of the broken lamps reassembled. “Interesting… Beech, nine inches, flexible, with a core of the spine of the white river monster. An unusual combination for an unusual character. Something tells me you will excel at Charms, Ms Black. All kinds of charms indeed.”

Tessa thanked the man and payed, pocketing her wand and scurrying toward the exit, unwilling to stay any longer than absolutely necessary in the shop. To say Ollivander gave her the creeps would be an understatement.

* * *

Tessa rented a room at the Leaky Cauldron, once again valiantly ignoring the stares and whispers that started up when she walked in. She lugged her books and supplies upstairs, dropped them off on the floor, then dived head-first into the first textbook she plucked off the pile.

And so she spent the two weeks before she needed to arrive at King’s Cross – reading up on the wizarding world, learning about her family tree, the history of the Black line, of the pureblood families in Britain. She learnt about her future school’s history, about its Headmaster, about the war that raged in the late seventies. And the more she learnt the more Tessa realised that she did not _fit in_.

She had an odd upbringing even from the perspective of someone raised in the ‘muggle world’ – fitting in with the likes of the Malfoys would be impossible. Then there was the other bombshell she’d learnt upon wandering Diagon Alley in the setting afternoon sun – technology was not a thing in the wizarding world. Wizards communicated via owls, forewent public transport in favour of something called ‘floo’ powder did not know about the internet.

Tessa had always been poor, but she had grown used to the home computer at the local library by the orphanage. She’d grown used to tax machines, to seeing people with the handheld portable phone, to the Walkman cassette player and the boom-boxes rich kids in Westminster carried around with them. The fact that Hogwarts would render them useless _hurt_ in a way she couldn’t quite explain _._ It felt like wizards did not believe in a ‘compromise’ or progressivism. If one were to become a part of their world, it would require complete assimilation.

Sighing, Tessa stared at her old, beat up, rescued-from-the-dumps cassette player and tried to wind up her The Who cassette with her finger, only to give up and go searching for a pencil. She would find a way to make muggle technology work in Hogwarts. She _would._

And then, the day when she needed to pack up and get to Hogwarts came around, and Tessa packed up her trunk and opted against the ‘Knight Bus’ or whatever it was that the barman suggested, and hopped onto the Piccadilly line instead, delighting in the rush of morning traffic as people hustled and bustled around her on their way to their nine to five jobs. Arriving at King’s Cross Station, finding the Platforms McGonagall had indicated was easy. But she still didn’t run at the wall until she saw another family do it. She had _some_ self-preservation after all.

The train that awaited on the other side of the wall was red and shining and so _old_ she wondered if it really worked. The hordes of students cheerfully getting aboard, the waving parents and hugging families told her that it must. So she snuck on, staying out of the larger crowds as much as possible and tried to find a compartment. She found one, a luckily empty carriage and no sooner had she settled in and curled up on the seat closest to the window, her cassette player in her lap and a book on the shelf than the compartment door opened and two ginger heads poked in, a dark-skinned boy waiting behind them.

Tessa saw his lips move but didn’t hear the words, so she yanked on the cord of her headphones and tilted her head. “Hm?”

“Is this free?” the same twin repeated, and when she nodded, grinned. “Perfect! Gred, get our trunks, Lee, come in brother, she doesn’t look like she bites.”

The boys flooded into the carriage in a flurry of movement, loud in every way possible, from their hair to their laughter and colourful jumpers.

“I dunno, Forge, it’s the little ones ya gotta watch out for.” The other brother, ‘Gred’, if the first one was to be believed, replied, eyeing Tessa’s curled up form with mirth. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at her cassette player.

So Tessa explained, offering them each a headphone when their awed confusion didn’t cease. “Clever buggers, those muggles.” one twin mused, while the other laughed.

“Dad would have a fit.” Then he turned to Tessa. “Muggleborn then, are you? What’s your name?”

“Muggle-raised.” She admitted easily, accepting her headphones. “I’m Tessa.”

“George Weasley.” The first twin introduced himself, then pointed at his brother. “This arse is Fred.”

“Lee Jordan.” Their friend added when his turn came, smiling kindly. “Now what’s this you were saying about making Snape’s cupboard explode, Fred?”

And the boys dissolved into plotting, laughing and suggesting spells and jinxes that could amplify the explosion.

“You could use _Deprimo_ if we had a way out.” Lee suggested, and Tessa, not taking her eyes off her book, spoke before she could bite her tongue.

“If you really don’t like him, _Bombarda_ might be better _._ ” She murmured, and immediately regretted it when she had three pairs of eyes on her.

From people who spent the past hour joking and plotting how to ruin their teachers, the twins pinned her with a surprisingly piercing, calculative gaze, while Lee just looked contemplative.

“Hear that, Gred?” one brother, George she assumed, asked, not taking his eyes off her. “ _Bombarda_ might be better, says she.”

“I hear you, Forge.” Fred agreed, a smirk slowly pulling on his face. “Lee, would that work?”

Lee seemed to think it over, flicking through a really battered notebook before replying, “Yeah, if we ran _really fast_ it would.”

The twins shared a look and seemingly an entire conversation before squishing onto the seats on opposite sides, _uncomfortably close_ to Tessa.

“So-” one of the brothers began on her right.

“-it seems the little first year knows some magic.”

“Problem is-”

“ _Bombarda_ is in the fourth year textbook.”

“Which begs the question-”

“How do you know it?” they finished together, and Tessa was half-amused, half-creeped out at how seamlessly they finished each other’s sentences.

She tried not to let her discomfort show as she changed her position so that no part of her body was touching the twins’, the aversion to physical contact more ingrained habit more than necessity.

She shrugged uncomfortably and wordlessly lifted the cover of her book which read _Spells and Incantations for Every Situation._ The twin on her right, who she cautiously labelled as Fred, grinned.

“Oho, the newbie is proactive, eh?” he teased, and George matched his grin while Lee just sighed in clearly fond exasperation and went back through scribbling. “Then why _Bombarda_ and not _Confringo_ for example? Or _Expulso_ for that matter?”

Tessa’s nose scrunched up slightly at the question and she made to open her book again but found that it was out of her hands. She gaped for a second, then looked up and found one of the twins on his feet, grinning at her and made a show of flicking through the pages of her book which was now in his hands.

“None of that!” he chastised, wagging his finger in disapproval. “Pop quiz!”

At that, Tessa couldn’t hold back the snort of amusement. “I’m not even at school yet-!” she bit back the ‘ _idiot_ ’ that wanted to come out, deciding that insulting an older, clearly magical boy who was only _teasing her_ , she supposed, wouldn’t do her any good. So she sighed and picked at the sleeve of her new sweater as she thought the question over.

“I think I read that _Confringo_ creates a small fire in the explosion, so it’s too violent, ‘cause you could set the place on fire if you’re not careful.” She said slowly, not realising she was essentially thinking out loud. “Haven’t heard of _Expulso_ yet but if it works on the same principle as _Bombarda_ then it shouldn’t matter which one you use.”

The twin still by her side appraised her carefully, then nodded in faux-seriousness. “Decent answer. Not enough sound-effects and enthusiasm, low E.” he announced, and Tessa scowled.

“’E’?! That’s not even a passing grade!” she snapped, only to get two raised eyebrows and a knowing laugh from Lee. Realization dawned on her. “Oh. _Oh,_ don’t tell me wizarding grades are different _too_.” She whined, getting a laugh from the twins. “Come _on,_ I barely wrapped my head around the subjects. What the hell is Herbology anyway?” she grouched, and got a pat to the head in the most patronising ‘there, there’ she’d ever experienced.

“Riiiight, muggle-raised. Of course.” The twin who was still-standing with her book said, humour ringing clearly in his voice. “Get ready for a crash-course then!”

By the time they were instructed to change into school robes, Tessa had learnt about the school’s grading system, the teachers, Fred and George’s various pranks (as although Lee regularly helped planned them, if his father found he’d been implicated in one he’d have likely been transferred) through the years, and places worth visiting/avoiding in school.

“Right, okay,” she said when she got her breath back after laughing at a particularly creative prank they’d pulled last year. “Both of you, sit.” And she pointed at the seats opposite her, ignoring their raised eyebrows when she leant forward, elbows resting on her spread knees.

She pointed at the one on the left. “Fred or George?”

“Fred.”

“ _Actually_ Fred, or are you pulling my leg?”

She got a light glare in return and a pout, “Shouldn’t have told her about that.” He grumbled under his breath, at which his twin laughed.

“Indeed, Georgie, you shouldn’t have.”

“George then.” Tessa acknowledged, then narrowed her eyes. “Stay still. You can talk though.”

And as the twins dissolved into conspiring about what she was doing – ‘she’s admiring our beauty, I tell you.’. ‘Not with those horrendous bowlcuts she’s not.’. ‘Oi, watch who you call horrendous, brother-mine!’ – Tessa tried to look for any and all differences she could spot.

The only thing she could see was that Fred’s face was ever-so-slightly rounder, George’s chin a little pointier, and his had eyes more specs of gold in them while Fred’s were more of a gradient between dark and lighter brown. Nothing that would help her tell them apart from behind though. She also noted that Fred’s voice was marginally higher, while George was slightly lazy on the vowels, blending them together. After about five minutes, Tessa sighed and grudgingly admitted defeat for the time being.

(Maybe their hair would grow at different lengths and she would have some help then.)

She sat back against her seat, legs crossed, elbow braced on her knee as she cradled her cheek in her palm. “Alright, I’m done.”

“Have we been cursed?”

“Petrified?”

“Deemed worthy?”

“Judged for all eternity?”

All Tessa could do was laugh, and she didn’t stop even when the train ground to a halt and people started bustling around the corridors.

It was the most carefree she’d be for a while.

* * *

A _castle._

Her school was a _literal castle._

Complete with a _moat_ and everything.

It seemed that the word ‘subtle’ did not feature in the wizarding version of the Oxford dictionary.

And it didn’t help that the one responsible for escorting them to the castle was a _giant_. Literally so, towering at a good ten feet, twice the height of most of the students. And then they were led to boats.

Boats with _no oars._

Which rowed themselves.

Tessa was pretty sure her eyes were like saucers but she could not stop marvelling, not at the castle, nor at the kids around her.

(at least she was marvelling in _silence,_ she thought snidely as she heard a rather stuck-up sounding girl give a lecture straight from _Hogwarts: A History.)_

She walked through the corridors in a daze, almost bumping into the boy in front of her when they were suddenly stopped and were told to wait. A loud call of ‘Trevor!’ snapped her out of her reverie and she jumped, looking down, and –

_Ew._

Tessa couldn’t help the way her nose scrunched up in disgust. She knew the letter said ‘cat or owl or toad’, but she had no idea someone would actually, _willingly_ have a toad as a pet. Ew.

And then she spied McGonagall, but before she could really greet the woman or draw her attention, they were being led into the Great Hall, and Tessa decided this officially beat the time she was stranded in Trafalgar Square during the Pride Parade for weirdness. The outfits looked like something straight out of a _Monty Python_ episode and she only just managed to stifle a snort at the ridiculousness of the situation. The sheer grandiose of the place was so hilariously overdone Tessa wondered how any of her fellow muggle-raised students managed to sit through it with a straight face.

(although she wouldn’t mind getting her hands on the spell that made the ceiling reflect the night sky. That was cool.)

They were stopped in front of a stage and an old, withered hat on a stool which McGonagall announced was the Sorting Hat and would decide which House they would be in for the rest of their Hogwarts career.

Tessa… didn’t like that idea.

It depended on how it sorted, but if it was like she thought – the arbitrary characteristic she displayed most often – then the next seven years were not going to be fun. Still, something to research later.

A few names were called out; Granger, Nott, Longbottom, Macmillan, Boot, Smith, but everyone quietened at Potter.

Tessa watched the boy walk up, the ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World’, and her lip curled in distaste. Sure, he might have vanquished a ‘Dark Lord’, but he was a _kid,_ just like her, just like every other first year there with them. Putting him on a pedestal would only make it that much easier for him to fall.

When the Hat crowed ‘GRYFFINDOR!’, Tessa sighed. At least, it seemed, he might have a comfortable start before being made into a walking pagan god.

McGonagall called out more names; Weasley, Zabini, Booth, Parkinson, Crabbe, Corner, Patil, Finnigan, Thomas, Bulstrode, and then –

“Theresa Black!”

There was a moment of silence, uncomfortable, foreboding silence like the calm before a massive storm, and Tessa squared her shoulders and moved.

_Own it or live in the shadow._

She heard the whispers, saw people staring at her as she ascended the stairs to the stool on which the Hat was perched. She stared down anybody who dared meet her gaze until the Hat covered her eyes and the twins’ shocked faces in the crowd seemed to be seared onto her eyelids.

After that, the whispers became impossible to ignore:

_“Daughter of a murderer…”_

_“Last of the Black line…”_

_“She’ll become a dark witch, there’s no denying it.”_

_“The school’s not safe…”_

Tessa scowled and consciously straightened her back, glaring at the room before her through the material of the hat. _She’d show them._

And then, a completely different voice filled her ears, drowning out the chatter of the children in the room and filling her head with nothing else but its echoes:

“ _Ah, I’ve seen this attitude before.”_ The Hat rumbled, its voice deep and wise, “ _The same desire to prove himself was present in your father. He too wanted to be different that his family before him, wanted to walk down a different path. Well, let’s see how similar you really are._ ”

 _I’m not like that man._ Tessa thought viciously. _Don’t compare me to him!_

_“Family cannot be denied, child. And you share your father’s ambition, the same desire to be the best, to be different than those before you. But you are also bitter, far more guarded and less trusting than most your age. It’s why your wand chose you, you know. I see you can handle yourself in precarious situations, that you are shrewd and cautious by necessity not design. And yet you’re unapologetically manipulative and you know how to get what you want. You’re cunning, intelligent, ambitious to get away, with a certain smarts born from experience more than books. Hard to trust but loyal to a fault once you do... Well, in that case, I know only one place to put you, and that’s –!”_

“SLYTHERIN!!”

Silence fell in the Great Hall, and Tessa slowly pulled off the frayed hat and handed it to McGonagall, meeting the woman’s surprisingly worried gaze. Tessa took one look at the people sitting at the tables or standing in the group before her, saw the self-satisfaction, the fear, the confusion, the self-righteousness. Saw those who were smug they had guessed right, saw those who were fearful of the scowl on her face, saw those who looked like they thought they already knew her without even speaking to her once. She stood, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders. She forced a smirk on her face and held her chin high as she made her way over to the green and silver table, ignoring the eyes on her back.

* * *

McGonagall eyed the girl’s retreating back. It seemed she had a case of ghosts this year.

Harry Potter, a carbon copy of James if she ever saw one, with his mussed hair and round glasses, the innocence in his eyes the pride and happiness as he headed to the Gryffindor table – _her House –_ only to be welcomed by hugs and handshakes.

And then the other mirror of her father.

Tessa Black. Minerva knew that Black had a kid. He’d been overjoyed when he found out, kept nattering to James about joint play dates and how they’d be the best of friends. McGonagall had seen him with the tiny bundle of baby, his own flesh and blood, had seen the softness in his face and the pride when he brought her to an Order meeting once, and she remembered despairing for anyone who would end up with the second generation of the Marauders on their hands, of the  _Black & Potter _duo.

And then Lily and James had been killed, little Harry left alone, and Sirius had murdered thirteen muggles and his once best friend.

Minerva had never once looked to see where baby Black had ended up.

Not until a month ago.

And now she watched as the girl walked towards the Slytherin table, her back ramrod straight, her shoulders pulled back and her head held high. She saw the smirk on her face, the slight tremor in her hands, the way the girl’s eyes swept around the Hall, daring anyone to meet her gaze and –

( _“GRYFFINDOR!!”_

_Everyone froze for a minute, then the whispers started up. A Black in Gryffindor? Preposterous! Long line of dark witches and wizards, that family, no lion has ever come out of there, oh no!_

_And McGonagall watched as young Sirius strutted to the Gryffindor table, grinning at Potter even then, his head held high and the whispers seemingly not affecting him. But McGonagall didn’t miss the way he kept turning his head ever so slightly towards the Slytherin table, how all his cousins there were glaring, scowling, jeering. She didn’t miss the way his hand shook before he raised it and high-fived Potter, before confidently sidling into a spot between Frank Longbottom and Potter. His confidence was admirable, but the look in his eyes spelled panic-!)_

Sirius’ figure seemed to be superimposed over his daughter's back, almost painfully similar. The same curly black hair, angular features, same bitterness and false confidence.

If Sirius’ Gryffindor status made him into the black sheep of the family for sticking out, Tessa’s Slytherin status was going to prove to everyone that she was exactly the same as every Black was infamous for being.

And just like almost twenty years ago, McGonagall felt equally as helpless as she did then, because just as she couldn’t do anything about Sirius’ family situation, she couldn’t do anything about the fact that his daughter was now in Severus’ care.

And Severus was not one to discriminate who he took his revenge out on.

* * *

 

Once she arrived at the Slytherin table, she sat beside a pale, dark-haired boy and opposite an olive-skinned, clearly southern European boy. Spanish, if she had to guess. Maybe Italian. An older teen leaned out from a few seats over, stretched out a hand.

“Marcus Flint. Slytherin’s Quidditch team’s Captain. Let’s hope you’re not a blood-traitor and a muggle lover like your father, or we’ll have problems.” He greeted, obnoxious smirk in place and almost daring her to disagree.

Tessa’s eyes narrowed as she appraised the teen. Then and there, she came to the conclusion that she did not like him. But he looked like he had sway in the House so she smiled coolly and shook his hand. “I am not a muggle-lover, _Flint,_ and it would do you well to remember that. I would gladly see them burn.” She replied, eyes trained on his face to catalogue his reaction.

She wasn’t overly surprised when there was something like approval in the boy’s eyes and he smirked, nodding approvingly. “Good to hear. We may make a Slytherin out of you yet.”

When he sat back, no longer looking at her, Tessa let out a quiet sigh and let the steely glare drop. The boy opposite her, the one she had pegged as foreign, stretched out his hand with a nod. “Blaise Zabini. Would you really?” he asked, an aristocratic lilt to his voice even though his gaze was cold, calculating.

Tessa shook his hand shortly and scoffed. “Of course not. The ones I have encountered were tolerable, but there is a difference between finding someone tolerable and ‘loving’ them.” She jerked her head towards where the teen who had first spoken sat, and lowered her voice. “He looked like he wanted a particular answer. I provided it. It is not my fault he is not bright enough to call my bluff.”

Blaise smirked and nodded, looking surprised but pleased.

“He was wrong.” The brunet beside her spoke up, eyes flickering from her to Flint. “You’re already a Slytherin.” When she turned her eyes to him, he nodded to her then to Zabini. “Theodore Nott.”

“Tessa Black.” She informed them blandly, then they fell silent. She fidgeted - there was tension in the air, and Tessa had never been able to bear it for long. For lack of much more to do, turned to Blaise, almost desperately blurting out a heavily-accented, “Eres español?” then following up with a slightly calmer, “O siete italiano?”

She saw Blaise’s eyebrows lift, a flicker of surprise appearing briefly before a smirk graced his face. “Io sono italiano. Parli italiano?” he asked, and Tessa found herself impossibly jealous of his accent, native or not.

She got over her envy and shrugged, scrabbling for how to correctly answer. “…Non parlo fluentemente. Solo… un po’?” she tried, already forgetting how the rest of that conversation went in the _Berlitz Self Teacher: Italian_ she’d found in the library.

Blaise’s smirk only grew bigger as he rattled off more beautiful, flowing, fluent Italian that had Tessa frowning as she struggled to keep up. “Ma posso imediare se vuoi. Tutto quello che devi e practicare.”

She spread her arms out as much as she could on the cramped bench and grinned wryly. “Nope. That went completely over my head.” She admitted, getting a chuckle out of the other boy and a tiny smile from Theodore.

“Still better than what I expected to hear in England. Not bad, Black.” Zabini complimented, and Tessa nodded gratefully. “How come you know it?”

Tessa shrugged. “Not much to do in a muggle orphanage than cause trouble or study. There’s only so much you can learn from a textbook though.” She added with a frown, then turned her attention to Dumbledore when he stood up and spread his arms out in an inviting gesture and began his speech.

She shared a glance with Theodore at the mention of an entire floor being off-limits, then snorted quietly at the mention of a ‘Forbidden Forest’. “If you put ‘forbidden’ in the name, all that’s gonna make me do is go there all that much sooner.” She muttered snidely, getting an amused eye-roll from Zabini and a quiet exhale that was probably a muffled snort from Nott.

Then, the speech was over, and as if on some cue, food appeared on their plates, a feast the likes of which Tessa had not seen before. She reckoned the orphanage probably got through that much food in a _year._ Her mouth watered despite herself and she fought the urge to stuff her face _and_ pockets with as much food as would fit.

Chatter filled the Hall, but Tessa valiantly ignored the stares sent her way even from the Slytherin table, nodding at Malfoy when he smirked at her, then striking up conversation with Zabini and Nott, only getting uncomfortable when the conversation spiralled onto blood purity.

“I don’t understand,” Blaise said after a particularly heated discourse on allowing muggles to move around freely. “you were raised in a muggle orphanage. I’d have thought you of all people would be against letting that filth live how it wants.”

“I hated that orphanage, don’t get me wrong, but I hate the reasons I had to spend a decade of my life there more than the experience itself. If I were given the chance to kill all muggles or my _father,_ ” she couldn’t help the way her face screwed up in distaste at the word, the shattered dream of a happy family still a recent memory, but she continued nonetheless, “I’d choose the latter in an instant. Plus, trying to subjugate the masses never ends well, and muggles have proven that over the many years of their recorded history. All it ever causes is mass rebellion and the death of the one who tried to subjugate them in the first place.”

Blaise frowned. “How can you hate one wizard more than the entire population of mudbloods?” he asked in disbelief, only to get Theodore’s sharp glare.

“Don’t use that word in civilised conversation.” The brunet retorted sharply, and Zabini looked surprised for all of two seconds before he nodded hesitantly and turned back to Tessa.

“Question still stands.”

Tessa sighed, not wanting to bare the exact reason she hated Black so, but she also knew she would need some people on her side in the school, and if she could get Nott and Zabini, she would feel relatively safer. So she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, putting her fork down.

“Every orphan dreams of meeting their parents. I did too, and I wanted to ask them what made them give me up. I imagined incredible, deep reasons that would potentially justify them, and then we could live like a happy family once they apologised and took me in. _Don’t_ give me that look, Zabini, the only books in the orphanage’s bookshelves were fairy tales.” She snapped when Blaise’s eyebrows soared, and Theodore nodded to show her to go on. “Then McGonagall came. She told me the truth. Told me my father was a muggle-loving blood traitor until his last moments. Told me that the reason I grew up with less than a Galleon to my name for a decade was that he chose _murder_ over his daughter. And was _stupid enough_ to get caught and make me _this-_ " she spread her arms out self-deprecatingly, "nothing more than a _murderer’s daughter._ So yes, Zabini, I hate him more than anything I can currently think of. Are you happy now?”

She was almost snarling by the end, and it was only then that she realised that the people sitting closest to the three of them had gone silent, listening to her all but hiss at Zabini.

Blaise was looking at her with a surprised expression and Tessa was sorely tempted to grab her wand from her pocket and try out one of the meaner hexes she’d read about on the teen. Damn him for making her air out her spill so much on the first day. Nott, however, seemed to read her mind for he picked up her fork and slowly offered it to her with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I think what Zabini wants to say is that he won’t bring it up again and thank you for answering.” He offered, and Tessa took her fork from him with a smile then pointed it in his face.

“Keep this up and you and I are going to get along _swimmingly,_ Nott.”

She got the biggest smile yet in response.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Tessa is a witch, yes, a Black in blood, but for all intents and purposes, she's only a muggle thrust into an unfamiliar world; a Hermione, if you will, only 10 times less trusting, more sly, and with a bucketload more issues  
> 2\. Kids are perceptive, okay? Especially kids who've been raised in difficult circumstances and been exposed to the 'survival of the fittest' mentality from an early age.  
> 3\. Have you ever had to stay in one place for a prolonged period of time, with no money, as a kid? There's seriously nothing better to do than study or wander, trust me.   
> 4\. Books, man. Books are great. Money + a thirst for knowledge = a lot of books.  
> 5\. I love the twins. and Lee. they're gr8  
> 6\. Minnie McGee is gonna have a lot of flashbacks, rest assured.  
> 7\. *this author dislikes Severus Snape*  
> 8\. leave me and my love of unexplored background characters alone, kay? they gon appear frequently. 
> 
> as always, leave me your thoughts in a comment - what you likes, had issues with, would like to see in future chapters etc, I'm all ears.


	3. Settling in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank you very much for all the feedback for last chapter! this is admittedly shorter than the previous chapters but i'm taking advantage of the week of free time i have to update my stories and i realised it's been almost three months since i've updated this one.   
> 1) theo and blaise are here to stay, i love them  
> 2) i am and forever will be critical of Snape - he was a bully and i hate bullies  
> 3) some tame pranking never hurt anyone  
> 4) i love the twins. a lot.

Tessa did not like Potions.

 

Correction: the subject itself was actually incredibly interesting - it was like something straight out of the Legend of Zelda and _hellooo_ major excitement - but her Potions Master and, coincidentally, Head of House, drove her insane.

 

In short, she hated him.

 

Even the worst of the wardens at the orphanage were not so obviously prejudiced towards their charges, and Tessa knew that some of the orphans were not easy to look after.

 

Severus Snape, however, made even Mrs Thorne look like a sweet, unbiased woman. 

 

When he started quizzing Potter about something Tessa  _knew_ was at the very back of their first year syllabus, she wondered what the man was doing. When he blatantly ignored Granger's raised hand, she narrowed her eyes. When he began ridiculing Longbottom, Tessa officially labelled him as a bully.

 

Honestly, how did that man become a teacher? Even the bloody  _ghost_ was a better choice than this man, and Professor Binns wasn't even  _alive_! 

 

And then, as the icing on the cake, Snape turned to her. "Hm... Seems we have more than one famous name in our class today... The Boy Who Lived and the daughter of a murderer..." Tessa's breath caught in her throat.  _How dare he-!_ She could see the indignation on Granger's face and wondered if the other girl also realised that something like that would never be allowed to happen in _normal_ schools. 

 

She turned her attention back on Snape when he narrowed his eyes at her. "Perhaps young Miss Black can tell me the effects of the Wiggenweld Potion? Or some of the undetectable poisons?" He asked, and now Tessa was fuming, and even Theo at her side looked confused.

 

She forced her features into a saccharine smile. "I don't quite know how you expect me to answer, Professor, seeing as the Wiggenweld Potion is on the third year syllabus." She replied, and the class grew so silent she swore she could've heard a pin drop.

 

Snape assessed her for a few seconds, then the corner of his mouth twisted downwards. "You don't know, then? Pity. Again, seems a famous name isn't enough." And he turned his back on her on his way to the blackboard, and Tessa saw red.

 

"The Wiggenweld Potion can awaken someone from magically induced sleep. It can therefore be used to counter the effects of the Drought of the Living Death." She announced, delighting in the way Snape froze for a second. "And Undetectable Poisons are called so for that precise reason - they _can't be_ detected, so they can't be  _identified._ Therefore they do not have specific names."

 

Snape turned towards her, slowly, so slowly that alarm bells started going off in her head, before he gave her an unimpressed look. "I don't know what other professors tell you, Miss Black, but in this class, you will speak only when spoken to and avoid shouting out answers like a chimpanzee."

 

Tessa slapped her desk in answer, absently noting that the textbooks of her whole row rose up and hovered about an inch above the surface of the table. "You  _asked me_ a  _questi-!_ " She cut off when Blaise's foot collided with her shin, shooting the boy an angry glare, but he just shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers.

 

"What was that, Miss Black?" Snape asked quietly,  _dangerously._

She held Blaise's gaze for another few seconds, before sighing and slumping in her seat. "Nothing, Professor. I didn't say anything." Only when the man turned his back to begin writing on the board did she calm down enough that the books all dropped back on the desk with a dull thud. 

 

She hated Potions.

* * *

And while that had been the very first lesson she'd had with the man, the following ones were hardly better. A month after school started, leaving Potions still made her want to stab something.

 

"I don't understand," Blaise told her as the three of them headed to Charms, Tessa's admittably _favourite_ class, "why does he hate you so much? What did you _do_?" 

 

"I've never heard of Snape hating Slytherins." Theo added quietly on her other side, his forehead marred with a frown, and Tessa couldn't hold back the snort.

 

"Guess I'm just special." she snarked, raking a hand through her hair and scowling when her fingers snagged. 

 

"It's not a joke, Black." Blaise sighed exasperatedly. "I don't trust you not to snap at some point, and with how much you're reading, I'm worried you might actually be able to hurt the man."

 

Tessa bared her teeth in what was most definitely _not_ a smile, and watched as Blaise flinched away. "I hate when you do that." he scowled at her, but she ignored it in favour of cooing. 

 

"Aww, Blaise-dear, I didn't know you had so much faith in me~!" she trilled, making sure it was right in the teen's ear. 

 

"Goddamnit, Black, get lost-!" he finally managed to shrug her off, then glared and sped up his stride, putting distance between them and jogging a little till he could tag along with Malfoy's group up ahead. 

 

"Are you trying to make him hate you?" Theo asked curiously, though there was an undercurrent of amusement in his voice that made Tessa grin (normally this time) as she shrugged. 

 

"I'm taking one for the team for the better good of society." she told him solemnly, delighting in his raised eyebrow. "If everyone bends over for him and his momma's money, he's gonna be as bigheaded as Malfoy. And one Malfoy is already more than enough for our collective sanity, two would just cause an apocalypse or something."

 

Theo eyed her speculatively for a moment, then shook his head with a snort. "You're insane." He told her frankly, though kindly held the door open for her as they walked into Flitwick's class. Just as Tessa was about to retort, he shot her a grin. "It's refreshing." Right before he turned on his heel and headed towards his seat next to Blaise. 

 

Tessa stood stock-still for a moment, processing what had just happened, and let a small, genuine smile break out. A month of friendship told her that was as good as a love confession from Theodore, so she wiped the smile off her face and replaced it with a toothy grin, bounding over to the boys and planting an obnoxiously loud, wet kiss on Theo's cheek. 

 

When Flitwick arrived, her and Blaise were still trying to stop laughing, and Theodore was still rubbing at his cheek and swearing at her, trying to wipe her saliva off his face. 

 

(The 5 points they lost for not stopping even when Flitwick politely cleared his throat, Tessa gained back in double half-way through the lesson when she made the tip of her wand light up in bright, pure white light that Flitwick proceeded to congratulate and rave over for three minutes. Well, Ollivander did say she was going to be good at Charms. Might as well milk that, no?)

* * *

But despite the many points she earned from Charms, and her friendship with Nott and Zabini (mutual tolerance? questionable life choices on all three sides?), Snape wasn't the only problem she came across. 

 

Her dormitory was issue #2. 

 

Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis were her dormmates, and they were _pests._ Tracey not so much - the girl was a Halfblood, so she wasn't as indoctrinated in the Pureblood ways as the other three, but that did not mean she stuck up for Tessa. Slytherin, _duh._

And while Tessa could hold her own in a snark contest, and none of the girls were openly antagonistic - turns out that being known as the daughter of the man who murdered thirteen people with one spell had some perks after all - the constant _judging_ gave her  a headache. 

 

From her choice of reading material ("But why would you willingly read about the _forties_?") to her uniform ("You're not _actually_ trying to go downstairs wearing _trousers,_ are you?") and a million other, inconsequential, unimportant things, they were constantly yack yack yacking and Tessa was _this close_ to using one of the spells she'd read up on the girls. That or _Muffliato_ on her bed curtains. 

 

Her main strategy involved ‘ignore and avoid’ but sometimes, just sometimes, it was really, really tempting to snap back, or pay them back for messing with her property.

Until one day, Tessa’s patience ran out.

On the second week of October, now settled comfortably into life at Hogwarts, Tessa, Blaise and Theodore were sitting in the common room, poring over a particularly nasty Potions essay Snape had set, when suddenly, a loud, blood-curdling scream rang out from the direction of the dorms.

Pansy Parkinson came running down the stairs, haggard, her hair in complete disarray, a look of wild panic on her face as she ran straight through the common room and out the door. Greengrass and Bulstrode came down too, both wearing expressions of shock and disgust.

Finally, someone asked the question that was on everyone’s minds – “What the bloody hell was that?”

“R…Rats tails.” Bulstrode choked out. “Rat tails, tongues, bat wings… in every single pocket of Pansy’s robes.” A visible shudder racked her body. Tessa was amused to note Greengrass was _actually_ turning green.

“I…” Daphne stammered, then covered her mouth and ran back up the stairs to the girls’ bathrooms. Millicent took a moment, then headed out of the common room, presumably after Pansy.

When the door shut behind her, Tessa stretched, feeling like justice had been served. “Ah, feels good.” She murmured, drawing the boys’ gazes back on her.

Then, it was as if a switch had been flipped in Zabini’s mind and his eyes narrowed. “Sei stato tu, non è vero?” he asked, and although the corner of his lips was twitching up, his voice was hard.

Theodore blinked, gaze flickering between Tessa and Blaise, and even though he didn’t speak Italian as far as Tessa was aware, even he must’ve understood ‘tu’.

“E cosa te lo fa pensare?” she demanded, even though, try as she might, she couldnt stop the self-satisfied smirk that bloomed on her lips.

Blaise’s expression turned disbelieving, then he snorted. “They’ll realise it was you, Black. Sooner or later. And what will you do then?”

“Psh.” Tessa scoffed, amused by the notion of Parkinson figuring something out. “More like much, _much_ later, Zabini. They’re so slow that sarcasm flies right over their heads, and you think they’ll think to point fingers at _me_?”

“Then why do it?” Theodore butted in, forehead marred with a deep frown. “Why go through that if you think they won’t realise?”

And then Tessa couldn’t help herself. She grinned, in the way that Zabini hated, all teeth and cunning and shadenfreude. “Because I _want them_ to realise. I want them to see the warning and know who it was from and know that I will _bite back._ ”

Theodore assessed her for a moment, his gaze far more piercing than Tessa was prepared for, then sighed and slumped in his seat, looking far older than his eleven years. “And you say people still question the fact that you belong in Slytherin?”

The sly smile Tessa shot him was answer enough.

* * *

Unfortunately, after the adrenaline burst that came from successfully pranking Parkinson wore off, Tessa was blindsided by another realisation: she wanted more.

She waited until she found them alone, secluded in a little alcove on the ground floor, bent over what looked to be a piece of parchment and whispering to each other.

She cleared her throat.

Immediately, the two ginger heads sprang apart, one shoving the parchment in his pocket while the other turned to grin at Tessa, only for the grin to melt off once he realised who stood before them.

“Black? What do you want?” one of them asked, and Tessa rued the suspicion in his voice, the distance. It was nothing like on the train.

“I…” she paused, took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. “I find myself in need of your expertise.” She began slowly, noting the way they both stood more t attention once the words were out.

“Well, that’s super cryptic.” They said in unison, and she couldn’t help but grin at that. “Go on?”

Tessa glanced around, making sure that they were alone, then threw caution to the wind; “When’s the best time to blow up Snape’s cupboard?” she got out in a rush, then waited for their response.

Shock, first. Then more suspicion. Then, after some serious soul-searching glares, twin, blinding grins.

Then, before she quite knew what was happening, there were arms around her shoulders and she was being steered away from the alcove, a twin on either side.

“Well, it all depends…”

And so, Operation WASP ( _Wizards Against Shitty Professors)_ began, and Tessa found herself with two unlikely allies.

 


End file.
